


Snippets

by 394percentdone



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-09
Updated: 2018-10-09
Packaged: 2019-07-28 13:38:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16242746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/394percentdone/pseuds/394percentdone
Summary: collection of the works i submitted for jupterweek 2018





	Snippets

It catches Juno by surprise the first time. Not how soft Nureyev’s kiss is compared to Rex’s, not the sharpness of his canines as they dig into Juno’s bottom lip. Not even the short staccato of Nureyev’s breath as Juno tangles his finger’s in Nureyev’s hair. These he learned from Rex Glass when Juno was still nothing more than an interesting fancy.

No, Juno’s surprised because kissing Nureyev feels so much more like coming home. 

It shouldn’t be different, should it? The way his heart flutters in his chest is the same, as is the rush of burning heat under his skin. And yet.

Nureyev sighs Juno’s name against his lips like a prayer. Soft and reverent and everything Juno isn’t. The glow of neon outside their window tinges the air a hazy red, the color of Hyperion spreading like a stain across Nureyev’s skin. Juno traces his thumb across Nureyev’s cheek and watches the light flicker in his eyes. Warmth, real and genuine spills out, leaking from Nureyev as he leans back to capture Juno’s lips again. 

If Juno was a fool he’d call himself in love. 

And maybe he wouldn’t be the only one.

* * *

In the stark neon of Hyperion’s nightlife, Juno watches cars fly down the streets.  Dazzling pinks, purples, blues stream past him without care for the P.I. as he steadily makes his way back home. Or at least, wobbling his way back home. Even by his shit standards, Juno is starting to slum it, after the mess with Kanagawa’s he’s been in hot water. 

Before anything else, Juno knows when to lie low. Perhaps Juno has lost his ability to stand up because of it. 

Whatever, it’s in the past now. With the rest of his mistakes. Juno raises the paper bag encased bottle to his lips, the sting of whiskey in his mouth burning away any stray thoughts about the Kanagawa case. 

All of them, except one. Juno can’t get that damned thief’s face out of his head -can’t forget the way his eyes lit up as Juno put the pieces together, how his cologne clings to him like a second layer of skin. Nureyev’s lips against his own, soft and supple and so, so sweet. Frustration lingers under Juno’s skin, an itch he can’t scratch just out of reach. Why would he waste his thoughts on a man like that anyway.

Juno knows why. Knows he craves the forbidden things, places he cannot venture into, things which should not be his business. People who exist only to bring pain. Those are things Juno seeks out recklessly, mysteries and solutions and most of all Juno seeks agony to drown his own. 

The bite of whiskey against his tongue as Juno takes another swig does its part to clear his head with fog. Juno is, at least, smart enough to know he’ll either never see the man again or have to arrest him on sight. Whatever game Nureyev, if that is even his name, is playing with him will have to wait. Or fizzle and die like everything else in Juno’s life.

Hazy neon flickers above him, the steady buzz of it popping loudly as Juno reaches his apartment door. And nearly trips over a small box placed haphazardly by the entrance. Swearing Juno opens the door with one hand, bottle in the other before picking up the package and tossing it on a counter. 

With an almost too large drink, Juno finishes the bottle, letting it land in the trash to clink against all the others. Head swimming pleasantly, thoughts nothing beyond muddled mush, Juno opens the box. 

It’s empty save for a small, round bottle. And a single scrap of paper. “ _Don’t miss me too much now.”_  It’s unsigned, but Juno doesn’t need a signature to hear those words spoken like a dream against his ear. Gingerly, Juno picks the bottle up, shakes it around to watch the amber liquid swirl about inside. 

Even before he opens it Juno knows what’s inside. Yet as the cologne diffuses into the still air in his apartment it still takes Juno’s breath by surprise. Juno smirks looks like their game won’t be fizzling out anytime soon. 

* * *

It’s early morning when Juno decides. Early enough the only light coming in through the cheap hotel blinds is the red haze of neon against the swirling sand. Nureyev is still asleep partially concealed by the sheets. A peaceful rise and fall to his chest, a softness to the sharp planes of his face, a sweet aching desire in the center of Juno’s chest to kiss the angle of his cheek. But he’s already decided. 

Juno slips back into his clothes silently. Opens the door and takes a step out. But he can’t resist one last look back, and he turns his head to give Nureyev’s sleeping form a glance that almost breaks Juno’s heart. Nureyev is so still here in this quiet end. The hard misery of his own making already settling into Juno’s chest as Nureyev stretches out a hand across the empty sheets where Juno used to be. 

Where he cannot linger now. 

It’s foolish of him but Juno’s always been a fool. He wavers at the edge of the door for a moment, for two. But Juno’s choice had been made when he woke up first. 

Juno leaves. He leaves Nureyev in a hotel room dusted with red neon light and his own regret. A dream to leave Hyperion, this city of hard edges and harder people. But this is  _his_  city. His home. 

Hyperion has him in its cold clutches and Juno will always choose his city over his dreams

* * *

“ _Dance with me_?”

An ocean of people surrounds them. Soft iridescent light floating through the sea to encase just the two of them. Nureyev’s hands fitting into the curve of Juno’s waist, the hollows between his fingers like they belonged there. Even without knowing the steps Junon follows Nureyev, forwards and back, side to side. Circling slowly on the hardwood floor. Alone together in the middle of so many others. 

Escape. A true respite from Hyperion and the noise and the demands and the aching loneliness. The dark blue of Nureyev’s dress glows against his skin, Juno watches the skirt glide around his legs with every step. Captivated. Nureyev leans him down for a dip, his hands shifting across the lace covering Juno’s back. Juno doesn’t hesitate to fall. Fools will always be fools after all. 

For a moment Juno is held almost entirely in Nureyev’s arms. One foot on the ground, the other curled around Nureyev’s leg. A moment can last forever, time can stretch until it means nothing. Nureyev’s smile, brilliant and blinding and so beautiful, stops Juno’s heart in his chest.   

Eyes so full of love they glow. 

Time returns to them. Juno is lifted back up by Nureyev’s hands as the music continues forward. Returns his hands to the line of Nureyev’s shoulder, the empty space between his fingers. Fitting back together as they belong. No longer enough. 

Juno takes Nureyev’s face in his hands, reaching on the tips of his toes to run a thumb across his cheek. Nureyev kisses him as if he can taste forever on Juno’s tongue. Sweet. Lips soft against Juno’s, Nureyev’s hands trailing lingering touches across his lace clad skin. Tracing patterns of scars, of freckles he’s memorized. 

An ocean of people surrounds them. Alone together, music for a dance they no longer need playing. Juno kisses Peter Nureyev and thinks of home.

* * *

Nureyev wears bright pink socks. Stands in Juno’s kitchen, steam rising off the mugs in his hands to swirl around his lean fingers. A smile to light up all of Mars’ deserts on his face, eyes warm as he hums. And he’s wearing bright pink socks. Juno brings a sweater covered hand to his face, hides a smile behind dark navy knit. 

A fuzzy horror movie plays on Juno’s small hologram. Sepia-tinted memory on a silver screen, a horrible monster, and a beautiful lady. There’s a pile of rumpled blankets to Juno’s side cast off minutes before. Nureyev complaining of cold and thirst, Juno suggesting an answer for both, only one of which Nureyev agreed to. 

Juno flicks his eyes back to Nureyev in the space between heartbeats. Catches the way the harsh neon of the light outside hits Nureyev’s eyes and mellows into a warm glow. The smell of melted chocolate rich in the air as Nureyev steps closer a smile still lingering around his lips. 

“Juno darling when you suggested a night in this wasn’t what I had in mind.” Bright pinks socks folded neatly under long slender legs. A mug handed over, warm ceramic against skin. Nurevey curls himself around Juno, fits himself neatly between the curve of Juno’s spine and his rickety old couch. Rests his chin on Juno’s shoulder to watch the monster on the screen. Right there within easy reach.

The hot chocolate Nureyev made is thick, rich and velvety against his tongue. Juno can feel Nureyev’s gaze on his cheek, feel the blood rise in a flush under his skin. Carefully, Juno places his mug on the coffee table in front of them, watches Nureyev do the same. 

Within easy reach.

Nureyev tastes of chocolate. Whispers of sweet cream against Juno’s lips. Magic in a moment - pink socks and navy blue sweaters. Tangled together, mixing until they’re both purple. 

* * *

There’s a box underneath Juno’s bed. Dusty with years of broken dreams, memories better left forgotten. Sometimes Juno thinks about that box, thinks about a policeman, dreams about a thief. Lonely nights, longing and desire and hope of something more.

Juno leaves Nureyev, Nureyev leaves Juno. Both come back to each other, drawn into orbit around the other’s center. Circling. Never too far apart. Heist and recapture followed by escape. Followed by a goodbye kiss. Both of them falling in love in measures, in the gap between one breath and the next.

Red and gold silk, patterns of flowers and leaves. Blooming across an old gown. Juno buys a ring and dreams about a thief. Solid gold band in his hand, nondescript and heavy with a weight it shouldn’t have. Hidden away in a pocket of his coat, always on hand for a moment Juno almost wishes will never come.

Silence. Days upon weeks upon months of nothing but silence. A cycle Juno knows well, yet always strikes a cold bolt of fear through his chest. One misstep, one careless overconfident mistake, all it takes is one. One before a ring in his pocket becomes more than a mistake, a golden reminder of cowardice.

In the middle of the night the window in Juno’s living room creaks. Lifts. In his chest, Juno’s heart stalls stops completely as familiar fingers wrap around the windowsill and a pair of bright eyes reveal themselves. “Juno dear, you’re supposed to be asleep.”

A kiss in the grey space between night and morning. Desperate and long awaited. Nureyev tastes of adventure and coming home. Juno presses his lips against Nureyev’s in a bid to never part. Hands on skin, tangled in hair, one person melting into the next.

There’s a box underneath Juno’s bed. Dusted off and opened for the first time in years. Juno takes out a golden ring and dreams of a thief and a private eye. Gold flowers blooming against red silk. Memories better left forgotten can be replaced by a hope of something more.

Nureyev brings him to a ball, dresses him in a gown made of starlight and kisses Juno like he could spend forever there. Gold lace across Juno’s skin, blue satin under his hands as he dances with Nureyev. A moment, a measure, and Juno realizes this love won’t fade. Dreams of a thief and a private eye.

Alone together, glimmering light on a ballroom floor. Nureyev on one knee as he holds out a soft silver ring. A hitch in Juno’s breath as he takes out a matching golden one. Laughter and a kiss that lasts forever.

There was a box underneath Juno’s bed. A wedding gown smelling of dust and broken dreams. Red silk on Juno’s dark skin, golden flowers blooming across a saree Juno’s only worn once before. In the mirror stands a stranger -radiant, smiling, wearing Juno’s wedding gown like a realized dream.

They don’t hold a ceremony. Juno stands on red sand bathed in light from twin moons. Peter across from him -beautiful and glowing. An exchange of rings, of laughter and soft kisses. A shared dream of a thief and a private eye.

* * *

The old silver band around Juno’s finger glimmers in light of the sunset. Soft pinks and oranges burning on his skin, burning gold on the matching ring on Nureyev’s hand. Fingers twined together, familiar and warm. Waves crash on a spun glass shore, a planet Juno doesn’t remember the name of and doesn’t care to recall. 

Silver streaks in Nureyev’s hair, under Juno’s lips. Years of memories of the same kiss to his temple, hand over hand, shoulder to shoulder. Once, when Juno was young, he believed he would have been long dead before this moment. How grateful Juno is to be wrong. 

The ocean in front of them glows with starlight, iridescent and fae. A warm breeze across Juno’s skin, a smile on Nureyev’s face. Crow lines reaching to their cheeks. Years of memories of sunsets shared in silence. 

Love in moments, in measures. Always as strong as the first heartbeat. Juno watches the sunset over an ocean, silver in his hair and wrinkles on his skin. His hand held in his husbands, old bones and old love settled together on a spun glass shore.

**Author's Note:**

> i really loved this week, it was full of really good content and i loved seeing/reading everyone's contributions. if any of y'all want me to expand on any of the snippets i'm super open to doing so, just drop me a comment here or shoot me an ask on my tumblr <3


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